damp rot. The path led to the gardens they had seen from the river in daylight. They walked along the boggy edge of the river and after a few minutes saw the skeletal outline of the airboat's propeller housing. They stopped in case Dieter had someone watching the boat. Paul threw a pebble into the water. The plop failed to draw anyone out of hiding.
They went aboard and readied the boat to leave at the first sign of dawn. Trout tucked a life preserver under his head and stretched out on the deck. Gamay climbed onto the seat and took her turn at the watch. Paul soon dozed off. At first he slept fitfully because of the heat and insects. His exhaustion caught up with him, and eventually he slipped into a deep sleep. In his slumber he heard Gamay calling his name as if from far away. Light was coming through his eyelids. He blinked and saw Gamay, still on her perch, her face grotesque in a flickering yellow glow.
Three dugout canoes were pulled up alongside the airboat. The canoes carried fierce-looking Indians armed with razor sharp spears and machetes. The raw flames from the blazing torches they held in their free hands illuminated the garish red paint on their bronze bodies and faces. Black bangs came down to where their eyebrows would have been if they hadn't been plucked clean. The Indians were clad in loincloths except for one who wore a New York Yankees cap on his head. Trout eyed the shotgun the man cradled in his arms. One more reason to hate the Yankees, he thought.
Trout grinned and said, 'Hi.' The granite expressions remained unchanged. The man with the shotgun motioned for the Trouts to get off the boat. They climbed onto the shore where the Indians clustered around them. The Yankees fan jerked the shotgun again in the direction of the village. With the Trouts in the middle, the torchlight procession started up the slope.
'Sorry, Paul,' Gamay whispered. 'They just came out of nowhere.'
'Not your fault. I thought any threat would come from land.'
'Me, too. What was the deal with the smile?'
'I couldn't think of anything else to do.'
'I guess Dieter is smarter than we thought he was,' Gamay said begrudgingly.
'I don't think so. Look.'
As they approached the clearing in front of the huts, they saw Dieter. He was looking very pale and frightened in the torchlight and for good reason. More Indians surrounded him, their spear points inches from his ample belly. Sweat dripped off his face, but he couldn't get to it because his hands were in the air. As if he didn't have enough to worry about, two white men had their handguns leveled at his heart. They were dressed identically in cotton pants, long-sleeved T-shirts, and high-topped leather boots. Both wore what looked like wide leather linesman's belts with metal clips attached. One was a hulking slovenly type who badly needed a shave. The other was short and slim and had the dark, flat eyes of a cobra. The boss Indian handed him the Colt. The hard eyes studied the Trouts for an instant, then flicked back to the Dutchman.
'Here are your couriers, Dieter,' the man said with a French accent. 'Do you still deny that you tried to double-cross me?'
Dieter began to sweat even more profusely, the perspiration coming off his face like a waterfall. 'I swear to God I never saw them before this morning, Victor. They simply showed up here and said Ramirez sent them to tell me about the dead Indian and to warn trouble was brewing.' A sly look came into his yellow eyes. 'I didn't believe them. I put them in the hut where I could keep an eye on them.'
'Yes, I noticed your extraordinary security measures,' Victor said with undisguised contempt. He turned to the Trouts. 'Who are you?'
'My name is Paul Trout. This is my wife, Gamay. We're re searchers working with Dr. Ramirez on a river dolphin project.'
'Why are you here? There are no dolphins in this part of the river.'
'That's true,' Paul said. 'We found the body of an Indian in a canoe. Dr. Ramirez thought trouble might be brewing and wanted us to warn this village.'
'Why didn't Ramirez himself come with this warning?'
'He hurt his ankle and couldn't walk. Besides, we wanted to see more of the rain forest.'
'Convenient.' The Frenchman hefted the Colt. 'Is this part of your scientific equipment?'
'No. It belongs to Dr. Ramirez. He insisted that we take it in case we ran into trouble. From the looks of things, I'd say he was right.'
Victor laughed. 'Your story sounds so stupid it might actually be plausible.' He appraised Gamay as only a Frenchman could look at a woman. 'Gamay, an unusual name with French roots.
Gamay recognized lechery where Victor saw charm, but she was not above using her feminine attributes for leverage. 'The Frenchmen I have met in the past would have introduced them selves by now.'
'Ah, pardon my bad manners. It must be my association with people like this cochon here.' Dieter flinched as Victor waved his pistol barrel under the Dutchman's nose. 'My name is Victor Arnaud. This is my assistant, Carlo,' he said, indicating his silent companion. 'We are employed by a European cartel that is seeking the acquisition of rare biological substances from the rain forest.' 'You're botanists, then, like Dr. Ramirez?'
'No,' he said with a shake of his head. 'The work is too rigorous at this point for botanists. We have a working knowledge of biology, but we are the advance collection team who will bring back interesting specimens for the scientists to analyze. They will come later when we have paved the way.'
'So you're looking for pharmaceuticals?' Paul ventured.
'Perhaps, as a by-product,' Arnaud said. 'It is no secret the next cure for cancer may be growing in the wondrous biological treasure house above our heads.' He tapped his long nose, then his lips. 'We are here primarily seeking fragrances for perfumes and essences, tastes for the food industry. If we come across medicinal extracts, so much the better. We have the permission of the Venezuelan government, and our operation is entirely legitimate.'
Paul let his gaze drift over the ferocious-looking painted savages, the leveled guns, and the patently terrified Dieter. He didn't believe for an instant that these jungle thugs were doing anything legitimate. He didn't want to set Arnaud off by being too inquisitive, but he knew it would seem peculiar if he didn't show curiosity.
'You'll hardly be surprised if I observe that you're quite heavily armed for a scientific party,' Paul said.
'Of course,' Arnaud said, taking the comment in stride. 'Ramirez's fears were not without foundation. You can see how dangerous the forest is. You yourself have seen a dead man.' His mouth curved in an ironic smile. 'You must wonder what our relationship is with this wretched creature,' he said, speaking of Dieter. 'He has given us the men of this village to help in our search for biological specimens. They know the forest better than anyone. He is paid handsomely, I might add.'
Paul grinned. 'Looks as if you're about to fire Mr. von Hoff man from his job.'
'And for good reason. Even if what you have to say about yourselves is true, that you are not couriers, this does not change the fact that Dieter here tried to steal from us. We had been looking for an extremely valuable plant that could be worth mil lions, billions possibly, to the pharmaceutical, food, and perfume industry. It's quite a wonder. We were going to take samples to Europe for analysis. The natives have been using it for decades, although not for perfume, unfortunately.'
'You seem to have solved your problem,' Gamay said. 'You have both Dieter and the specimens.'
'I wish it were as simple as that,' Arnaud said with an edge in his voice. 'True, we have this pig, but our valuable plant samples seem to have disappeared.'
'I'm afraid I don't understand.'
'We had heard of this amazing plant from the natives, but none of them was able to locate it. We had gone far beyond our original area of operations into uncharted parts of the forest which is where we came across the Indian you were later to find dead. He had samples of the plant in his possession. We offered to pay him to show us where he got the specimens, but he re fused. We made him our guest in the hopes we could persuade him to change his mind.'
Paul remembered the welts on the Indian's body. 'So when he wouldn't talk, you shot him.'
'Oh, no, nothing so simple as that. In fact we were doing our best to keep him alive. Dieter was in charge of providing hospitality and safeguarding the specimens. He got drunk one night and let him escape. The poor devil was shot stealing a canoe. We assumed he got away with the specimens. In which case he would have had them when you found him.'
'What did these specimens look like?' Paul asked.
